Hermione's Secret
by taurustwinss
Summary: Hermione shows up to the Weasley's during summer vacation with scars and secrets
1. Chapter 1

The first thing the two lanky teens saw when they made their way downstairs to the long kitchen table that stretched across the kitchen, to accommodate so many growing boys, was a pale and fatigued Hermione Granger anxiously sipping at a coffee that was rattling around in her shaking hands.

"Hermione? What are you-" Panicked, Hermione turned her giant watery eyes towards the source of the voice: Ron. The look on his face was incredulous, his mouth was wide open, and his eyes were even wider, trying to find any sort of explanation for Hermione's appearance.

"I mean, are you okay?" Her eyes found the floor and her lip quivered, tears threatening to pour over and roll down her pale ashen cheeks. But before any of this could happen, the boy's mother cut in,

"We don't need to be asking questions like that dear, it's rude. Let's just appreciate the fact that Hermione is here with us and be grateful. Okay?" She gave the boy's a stern look that implied that there were to be no more questions and that was final.

The boys sat down tentatively and attempted to make a dent in the feast that Mrs. Weasley had laid out before them. Feeling like he could almost see the distress rolling off of Hermione, Harry tried to reach a hand out, hoping that contact would help to comfort her, but instead, she jerkily pulled her shoulder away, almost like she was scared of being touched by anyone. Hurt flashed behind Harry's striking green eyes and he quickly withdrew his hand, turning away from Hermione.

"I think- I think that I'm gonna rest a bit." Hermione quickly rushed upstairs and Harry could have sworn he caught a glimpse of tears before she hid her face, narrowly missing Fred and George on their way down to breakfast.

"Oi, was that Hermione?" Fred asked sounding understandably confused.

"Yes sir, it was and you two are not to ask any questions about why she's here, you understand?" They both nodded and grabbed fistfuls of food, making their way outside, probably to practice Quidditch. Mrs. Weasley left the room, possibly to go wake Ginny, and in one swift motion, Ron pivoted his head towards Harry and barraged him with a series of different questions about Hermione, none of which Harry had the answer to. The main question, however, well at least the one that interested Harry the most, was "What do you think happened?".

"I swear we locked them up," Fred said, his voice muffled by the bush his head was currently in.

"Ginny might have gotten in there, messed with some stuff." Fred, pulling his head out of the bush, raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Why would Ginny want them? What I think is that you're trying to cover your tracks and you were the one that let these guys out." George reddened a bit and shoved Fred, a smirk playing at his lips. Fred went to shove him back when something caused him to freeze entirely, tilt his head and squint his eyes; listening to something only he could hear.

"I think I hear one of 'em" Fred lead George through the forest surrounding the Burrow and the sounds of sobs echoed off the trees.

"Should be right through here," George said, bushing a few branches aside, Fred following him a grin pulling at the sides of his mouth.

When the two boys made it into the clearing in which the melancholy wails were originating from they did not find whatever creature they were looking for but found despair ridden Hermione Granger seated under one of the many trees towering over them all, her hands trying to cover her face and her tears.

"Hermione!" George cried, causing Hermione to jerk her head up, visibly startled. She frantically tried to wipe her tears away in a vain attempt to try to hide the fact that she was crying and turned her face away from the twins.

"Hermione, are you okay? What's wrong?" Her eyes were red and swollen and her hands were shaking so badly she clasped them together in a vain attempt to make them stop.

"It's nothing. I-I'm fine." She started to get up and briskly made her way past George but knowing that they needed to find out what was wrong, George reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Hermione. Please just tell us. We want to help." She took a long look at George and tried to weigh her pride against Fred and George's compassion.

"This isn't really something you can help with," Hermione concluded with a woeful sigh. Her vision started to blur as her eyes glazed over with tears and she desperately tried to wipe them away.

"That doesn't matter. It's better to tell someone than to keep it bottled up inside." Hermione's once pathetic demeanor turned fiery in an instant as she wheeled around and faced George head on,

"Yes. That's some great advice! I honestly have never heard that bit of information before. I didn't hear it when your mother was trying to coax why I was here out of me, or when Ginny asked me why I wouldn't use magic, or when Ron screamed them at me only a few hours ago." Hermione had turned on George and now had her finger planted firmly on his chest.

"Hermione we-" Fred stopped and appeared to be grappling with what to say next.

"I understand if you don't want to tell us what's going on. But you showed up unexpectedly at our house in an obvious state of distress, causing our mother to become more anxious than she already is. You have Ron pulling his hair out, racking his brain for what's wrong with you and you expect us to just turn a blind eye and accept this whole ordeal? There's really only so much you can force on us before we start getting really concerned, Hermione." Hermione had withdrawn her hand from George's chest and was staring shocked at Fred, who was looking at her with his eyes filled with concern.

Not seeing any other option, Hermione's body slumped and she gave up. Not being able to find a way to explain her situation with words, she reluctantly rolled up her sleeves and despite Fred and George's gasps, she refused to meet their eyes.

Her arms were covered in bruises and cuts that were cleaned but not healed. Fred shuddered thinking about what the rest of her body looked like and rage flared up inside of him when he thought about whoever did this to her.

"Hermione, how did this even happen?" She took a deep breath and composed herself before telling Fred and George the story.

"As you know, my mum died last summer. That's why I was here so often." The twins nodded in agreement.

"Well, once my mum died my father became depressed. Never experiencing sadness like this before, he drank to make it go away. When he got drunk, he would scream at me for killing my mum." Hermione took a breath before continuing on, tears visibly sliding down her face.

"It's okay, you can keep going." George encouraged Hermione while Fred paced back and forth, angrily.

"Well, my dad he-he blamed me for her death because I was different. It didn't really make sense but he was drunk. It didn't have to make sense. He just needed someone to blame and I was the closest thing to him. He said that if I was normal if I wasn't away all the time practicing magic, she could have been saved. The drinking got worse and soon he couldn't resist hitting me. At first, it wasn't so bad. Just a slap or a punch; nothing I couldn't fix. But the night I showed up here, he tried to kill me. I don't know how much he had to drink that night but it was the worst I'd ever seen him. He just started punching and kicking me and I tried to get to my wand but it was all the way up the stairs and he was so much _bigger_ than me…"

Hermione cut her story short with a shuddering sob. Tears dripped down her face when she remembered how helpless she had felt that night. How she had just barely made it out the door. How he had thrown beer bottles out after her, some breaking on her skin.

"Bloody Hell, Hermione. I had no idea." George was in visible shock after hearing Hermione's horrifying tale and he still couldn't believe that anyone could do something like that to their own daughter. Fred was furious and was doing a terrible job at hiding it as he paced back and forth, his fists closing and unclosing.

"Who would do that to their own kid?" Fred slammed his fist into the trunk of the tree Hermione had been sitting under.

"Fred just calm down." George pleaded while awkwardly trying to get Hermione to stop sobbing.

"No, I can't calm down, George. Hermione nearly died! And where's she gonna go now? Who's gonna support her?" From the look on his face, Fred could have continued going but Hermione cut him off,

"I'm really alright, Fred. Trust me, you don't need to worry." She stood up, shrugging George's arm off, and quickly wiped away any remnants of the fact she had been crying.

"I am perfectly capable of finding myself a place to live and the bruises and scars, they… well, they will heal in their own time." Fred stopped pacing and grabbed her arm to examine the extent of the injuries.

"Mum can fix these up in a matter of seconds. Why haven't you had her help you?" Hermione lowered her gaze, ignoring the question, but more importantly, embarrassed by the answer.

Fred made a circle around Hermione, lightly grazing his fingers against her skin, noting every time she winced and squirmed. When he got to her back, she swatted his hand away and doubled over in pain. She took some deep breaths and straightened herself up again to her full height. George, always being full of more emotion than Fred, had a hand placed over his mouth and had turned his head away, not wanting to see Hermione writhe under Fred's touch any longer.

"Hermione, please. I can help you. Just let me see what you're dealing with." He fingered the hem of her shirt, wanting so badly to see what her sick father had done to her, so he could match the punishment to the crime.

"I don't know. I really am fine... and seeing it isn't going to make it any better." She sounded doubtful and both Fred and George suspected that deep down, Hermione wanted help. She just didn't know how to do it without feeling like she was causing someone else pain or grief.

"Please. Hermione. Someone needs to see it. It doesn't have to be me, but I doubt you want Ginny or mum bursting into tears at the sight of this and I _know_ you don't want Ron and Harry promising you that your father will pay and making angry vengeful threats, do you?" Fred raised his eyebrows and cocked his head towards Hermione as if to make sure he wasn't assuming too much. She nodded in agreement.

"Okay. So please. Let us see." Since Hermione was never one to deny solid logic, she reluctantly agreed. Fred slowly, as not to hurt her, slid her shirt up her back until most of her back was on display.

"Bloody Hell," Fred whispered when the gash came into view. Hermione brought her eyes to the sky, trying to focus on the trees and not the clear horror the Fred and George were experiencing. She could only imagine the shock and even worse, the pity they were feeling at the sight

"Did you try to stitch it up yourself?" Fred said quietly, obviously scared. Hermione had, in fact, tried to stitch up her back. She was actually quite good at stitching herself up and had been doing so for years, but it is clearly difficult to reach your back and to see what you're doing in order to do it in a clean manner. Hermione had tried anyway, not seeing any other option.

"Yes." She said in a very un-Hermione way. Fred tried, and failed, to muffle a horrified gasp and Hermione could have sworn she saw tears in George's eyes, but only for a second.

"It's not a big deal. I'll get Harry or someone to stitch it up properly in a few days. After this whole issue has blown over."

"Hermione, you can't wait," George said a little shakily, but for the first time, Hermione had seen, completely serious.

"I'm no doctor but I am almost certain that it's already infected. And if you don't have mum treat it or stitch it up correctly, you're going to get really sick." Hermione nodded and rolled her eyes a little; she had heard this all before.

"I will but I really don't want to cause anyone else any more grief, pain, or anger than I need to." Hermione moved away from Fred and pulled her shirt down suddenly as if she had just taken into account that she was causing the twins all of these things.

"I'm really fine. It doesn't matter, I'm not important. What's important is helping Harry and the rest of the wizarding world through the battle with You-Know-Who" She said this without the air of self-pity you would imagine would accompany words such as those. Instead, she said it as if it were a fact she was reciting from a textbook. At this comment, Fred's face seemed to contort into one of pain and grief all at the same time.

"No. No, Hermione, don't say that." He moved his arm up to comfort her but, just like she had done to Harry, she pulled away; her barriers were back up. Whatever sentimental moment that had just ensued was over just as suddenly as it had begun. George quickly wiped at his eyes while Fred had resorted to angrily pacing again, frustrated that his words seemed to be lost on Hermione.

"I'm really fine. There's no need to worry at all." Seeing that this wasn't going to satisfy Fred and George, she sighed and added, "I promise that if the pain gets to terrible, I'll-I'll tell Ron." And with that, she turned around and left as though nothing had happened.


	2. Chapter 2

She got sick. The infection from the gash had spread like both Fred and Hermione had suspected it would but no one could have guessed how fast it would have spread. Hermione thought she had at least a couple of days to get her story ready and prepare herself for everyone's reaction but in reality, she really only had a few hours.

It had started after she had walked back from the woods. She felt tired and a little warm but, illogically, had decided it was just from stress. It wasn't until a few hours later she knew something was wrong. She had been sitting at the kitchen table, attempting to be polite and make small talk when she felt a wave of vertigo wash over her and the room started to spin. Not wanting to draw any undivided attention, she discreetly put her head in her hands and tried not to fall out of her chair. Knowing she had to get out of there fast before she passed out, she made a move to get off her chair when the gash on her back hurt so bad she had to bite down on her lip to suppress a little grunt of pain. Grimacing, she thought back onto the promise she had made with the twins.

"Mrs. Weasly? Do you know where Ron is?" She asked quickly trying not to let the painful tears that had formed in her eyes fall,

"Yes dear, I think he's in his bedroom upstairs. Why? Are you-"

"Thanks." Hermione apologetically cut her off and half stumbled-half ran upstairs to Ron's bedroom. She gripped the banister so hard on her way up the stairs that her knuckles had turned white and when she came to Ron's bedroom she burst through the door and to a startled Ron's dismay, fell to the floor.

"Bloody Hell, Hermione! Are you okay?" He hoisted her up by the armpits and almost dropped her when she moaned and nearly screamed in pain. He sat her down on the bed and she just about fell over before she found her balance and leaned up against Ron's bedpost, careful not to give her back any more reason to be in more pain than it was already in.

"Ron I need to tell you something." Hermione started, a look of anguish clearly plastered on her face.

"Yeah, you bloody well do," Ron responded, already starting to get anxious and angry all at once.

"Before I start I need to know you won't be mad," Hermione said quietly while brushing some loose curls behind her ear. Ron looked at her quizzically and her lips almost twisted into a grin when he started to pace almost exactly like Fred had only hours before.

"What, be mad at you?" He had stopped pacing to talk and Hermione could hear the panic already sneaking into his voice as he was imagining all the awful things that she could have done.

"At me, at the twins, at anyone really," Hermione said quickly, anxious to stop the mounting pain in her back. It had gotten so bad that she had doubled over and was taking labored breaths in a vain attempt to stop the pain.

"What-the twins? What do the twins have to do with anything? Did they hurt you?" Ron ran his shaking hands through his hair in an attempt to stay calm.

"No, no just listen." Ron opened his mouth to say more, but needing to get her story out Hermione cut him off,

"Just listen, dammit!" Hermione screamed at Ron, cutting him off before he could say anything else. Now that she had his attention she wasted no time telling Ron what had happened, ignoring his incredulous looks and even kept talking when she could tell he was close to punching the wall. She only stopped when he actually did.

"Why didn't you tell me, Hermione?" The words came out weak and feeble despite his apparent rage and his face contorted like someone had punched him in the stomach. He put his face in his hands and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down and trying not to let himself get upset enough to cry in front of Hermione. She had never seen him cry and he was almost certain that if even one tear fell, Hermione would start to sob and he didn't know if he could see her cry when she looked like she did. All pale and sad; covered in bruises and scars. She hadn't even gotten to the worst part though. As she told him about the most recent night and continued to give him the details of her scars and previous injuries, he felt like he was going to be sick, and he looked like it too. At one point Hermione had to stop talking and ask him to sit down, to which he complied.

"This is what I need your help with, o-okay?" She had her head leaned against the bedpost and was breathing heavily, covered in sweat, and pale. Her glassy eyes met Ron's and he could tell that whatever he had to do, he wouldn't like it.

"Just don't freak out okay? Just stay calm." Hermione pleaded softly, not having the energy to calm Ron down. He nodded unsure if he could keep himself together for much longer.

"I need you to lift up my shirt. Slowly, okay?" Hermione painfully turned so that her back was facing Ron and blinked back tears as he slowly brought his hands to the bottom of her shirts, terrified he would hurt her even more. He slowly started to pull up her shirt and the pain of the fabric brushing against her infected wound caused her to cry out and quickly bite her lip to prevent any further outbursts, Ron winced and mumbled a quick sorry at her cry.

When he finally had her shirt off he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes despite himself and he lept off the bed from the initial shock.

"Bloody Hell, Hermione, Bloody Hell! What the fuck is this! I mean are you okay? Are you… did you try to stitch it up? Are you mental?" Ron screamed at Hermione while she held back sobs of pain and shame and tried to calm down enough to explain what she needed Ron to do. Ron grabbed her wrists and held onto them as if they were a lifeline and kneeled in front of her, fearful tears gleaming in his eyes, but still careful to not let them drop.

"Hermione, I'm sorry but I just… why haven't you let someone heal it for you? Why didn't you tell me about it before you got sick?" She shook her head and sniffled softly occasionally muttering incoherent phrases. When no understandable answer was given Ron asked, frustrated, again.

"Why Hermione? Why hide something as toxic as this?" He pleaded, his blue eyes full of longing and sorrow almost like those of a child when he's told he can't have candy

"I just didn't want to worry you. I didn't want you to be disappointed in me." Her voice broke and she started to openly sob to Ron's dismay.

"Disappointed, now why would I be disappointed in you? I just want to help you. Hermione, tell me what I can do to help." Hermione nodded and wiped her tears away with shaking hands.

"I need you to either, if you know how, heal this with magic or take out the stitches I tried to do and stitch it back up yourself." Ron looked at her and instantly panicked.

"Hermione, you know I can't do either of those things. Why don't you just let mum fix it up for you?" Hermione frantically shook her head back and forth and eyed the door, prepared to block Ron if she had to.

"No. You can't. The only other people who know are the twins and I really don't want to cause anyone else any more grief than I need to. Especially not your _mum_, Ron." Hermione was almost praying that Ron wouldn't go get Mrs. Weasley. Ron, however, knew that he wouldn't be able to perform magic as advanced as healing an infected wound and also didn't think he would be able to stomach ripping the stitches out of Hermione's back while she screamed and cried and then stick a needle in her to sew her back up again. In fact, he shuddered at the thought.

"Hermione, I don't think I can. I've never done magic like that and I can't stitch you back up! You know I can't!" Ron stuttered, unable to get the words out, not knowing how to find the correct phrases to represent his internal struggle. Hermione sighed, knowing it was a big ask and also knowing that Ron was always the weakest one in the group, to put it bluntly.

"No you can, you have to, Ron! We have no other options, _I_ have no other options!" Now it was Hermione that was screaming in between painful and harsh sobs, doubled over and gripping the bedpost so hard her knuckles were white.

"Oh, Hermione, um, I'm going to go get the twins, okay? They'll know what to do." Ron said, tears re-entering his eyes. Hermione groaned and nodded frantically, not sure how long this could go on before she ripped the stitches out herself.

Seeing her approval, Ron bolted out of the door and slammed it firmly behind it, locking it with his wand; muttering the spell, shakily, at least three times to get it right. He then ran down the thin staircase, stumbling almost every other stair. Fred and George were sitting at the kitchen table, trying to get Percy's ministry owl to eat some of their new more 'experimental' trick candies. When Ron came flying into the kitchen, they instantly knew what was wrong and abruptly stood up, concern in their almost identical eyes.

"It's Hermione, she wants me to stitch her back up. I can't though, I can't!" Ron was near hysterics, half sobbing, half screaming from the sheer panic the situation brought. Knowing that his screams would alert their mother, Fred grabbed Ron while George clamped his hand over mouth, quieting him so they could pull him into the pantry and understand what was going on.

"Ron tell us what's wrong with Hermione" George slowly removed his hand from Ron's mouth, "Quietly." Ron nodded silently and took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing.

"She just came upstairs and started telling me all of these awful stories about her father and what he did to her and then she showed me her back, bloody hell, her back." Ron took in a shuddering breath thinking of what must have been done to create something like that. "She started crying and just fucking screaming at me to restitch it. I can't do that, You know I can't." Ron was starting to cry again, his voice trembling.

"Okay, calm down Ron, George and I will fix her up," Fred said, trying to soothe his little brother, never seeing him more distressed than he was now. Suddenly he felt like they were all kids again, Fred and George consoling a distraught little brother while he was crying because Ginny stole his broom. With a shock he realized that he had was being looked at to take control of the situation; an odd thing considering he had spent most of his life trying to shed all responsibility.

"George, go fetch a needle and some thread from Mum's sewing kit. Ron, show me where Hermione is." Fred said in a confident voice, although he wasn't feeling very confident at the moment. He had no idea what made him say that he could stitch up Hermione, he had no idea how to sew, much less actually stitch up a wound. He now wished he had listened to his professors or his mum; he was racking his brain for anything he had ever heard about healing, coming up with nothing.

"Grab some of that skele-gro and some pumpkin juice too, while you're at it," Fred added, thinking he remembered Madam Pomfrey saying those words while he was in the infirmary with Ginny and Harry.

He followed Ron up the stairs and was soon facing his door.

"Alohomora," Ron whispered and Fred heard the soft click of the lock being undone. Ron quickly stepped in and gasped loudly, seeing Hermione passed out, lying on the floor, her wand a few feet away from her hand and the gash in her back clearly on display. It looked as though she had been trying to cut some of the stitches out herself and was doing a very bad job of it. Fred stood, aghast, with a hand over his mouth, watching his brother rush to her side and check her pulse.

"What do we do?" Ron wailed at Fred, looking to his older brother for direction. This broke Fred out of his trance and he snapped to attention, frantically giving instructions so that it seemed he was in control of the situation.

"Quickly, bring her into the bathroom and try to start cleaning her wound." Hearing his instructions, Ron locked his arms underneath Hermione's and started to drag her into his bathroom and propping her up against the edge of the tub, her entire body limp and frail. He rooted through his cabinets until he found a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cloth. Although Hermione was still mainly unconscious, Ron felt it was calming to talk to her as though she was awake.

"I'm just going to clean your cuts with…" he squinted to read the label on the archaic bottle, "rubbing alcohol."

He poured a bit of it onto a hand towel and started to gingerly dab it onto Hermione's back. The burning sensation from the chemicals interacting with her skin caused her to shoot up, a scream fresh on her lips. George clamped a shaking hand over Hermione's mouth, again preventing his mother from getting involved. He looked at his little brother. He was shaking, his mouth a round "O" of surprise at Hermione's outburst.

"It's okay." Fred put a hand on Ron's shoulder and took the cloth from his hand understanding that as his older brother, it was his job to protect Ron from things like this. With a jolt he realized that he hadn't done much of that so far, he often left Ron alone without support, trusting that he could figure things out or one of his other brothers would guide him, Fred had never expected anyone to look to him or George for advice or guidance. But Ron was alone. Percy was a prick, and Charlie and Bill were gone most of the time. He pushed his realization out of his mind and focused on what he had to do.

Ron grabbed Hermione's hand mumbling nonsensical phrases of reassurance while George grabbed a small hand towel from the sink. In a motion more gentle than Ron had ever seen his brother do, George slipped a hand under Hermione's head and whispered something into her ear. He then slipped the towel into her mouth and nodded to Fred. Fred then went back to finishing Ron's job. After about ten minutes of tears, muffled screams, and Ron's empty reassurances, they had finished cleaning Hermione's gash.

Next, Fred whispered a spell under his breath and with a flick of his wrist the jagged stitches dissolved, disappearing from Hermione's back. Ron let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, realizing they were almost done. This was almost over. George grabbed the needle and thread, handing it quickly to Fred, his hands shaking so badly he knew he wouldn't have been able to guide the needle effectively. Suddenly, Hermione's eyes slowly opened, a glassy haze hovering over them. She looked up slowly, her eyes meeting Ron's who were already red and puffy from crying, although he would never admit to it.

"Mione?" Ron asked quietly, sounding like a scared little kid. Even in her state, Hermione could hear the fear and uncertainty in her voice and she felt a horrible, empty feeling blossom in her chest. Her breath hitched and she let out a heaving sob, abruptly aware of her situation.

"I'm so sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry." Hermione wailed, suddenly overcome with emotion. Ron froze at first; he had never seen Hermione in a state like this before, Christ he couldn't even remember if he had seen her cry before. Then, as if a new person possessed him, he wrapped his arms around her and held her shaking body to his chest. He ran his hands through her hair soothingly and told her everything was going to be okay. He turned to Fred and nodded, signaling to him to begin.

Fred picked up his wand and muttered a levitation spell, watching as the needle thread itself and moved so it hovered over Hermione's back. The needle was inches away from the wound when a knock at the door caused the needle to fall, Fred's concentration broken. The three boys exchanged nervous glances all of them too scared to make any noise.

"Ron? You in there?" Harry's voice carried through the door as he knocked again. Ron's gaze shot towards Fred, looking for a sign of what to do. Should Harry know? Surely he would have to find out sooner rather than later… right? Ron looked between the twins, but each of them gave different answers to the dilemma. Fred nodded no, while George nodded yes. In the end, Ron decided to open the door, despite Fred's passionate protests. He opened it a crack, just enough so that he could see Harry's confused face staring back at him.

"What the bloody hell is going on in there?" Harry asked, craning his neck in an attempt to see around Ron and into the bathroom.

"Look, Harry, I'm gonna let you in, but you can't freak out, okay? It's very important you agree." Ron spoke slowly, trying to get the shake in his voice under control. Harry waited a moment, considering the request and slowly nodded his head. Ron opened the door quickly and yanked Harry into the chaotic scene. Harry lifted a hand to his mouth as the twins gave him matching grimaces.

"What happened?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys! Here's another chapter for you, this one is a bit shorter than the last two (sorry about that) and it focuses mainly on the dynamic between Ron and Fred. I hope ya'll enjoy and lmk what you think!**

**I do not own this franchise or any characters or settings from it, it all goes to J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter franchise.**

"What happened?" Harry asked, a hint of panic in his voice as he took in the scene. He saw Hermione quietly crying, back in Ron's arms. He met Ron's gaze, an incredulous look plastered on his face. The three redheads looked around at each other, none of them wanting to answer Harry. Harry looked at each of them, his hands flailing around uselessly.

"I'll ask again. What the bloody hell is going on?" He asked this time as though it was an obligation to answer, not a request. George cleared his throat and looked at Harry, thought clear in his features as he decided what to say.

"Hermione's dad he… I mean he… he beat her Harry. Pretty bad." Harry raised his eyebrows in shock but nodded his head in understanding. He knew what George was talking about. He didn't need any further explanation.

"What can I do?" He asked softly, looking down worriedly at the pair intertwined. He crouched by them, his hands hovering over Hermione, unsure of what to do with them next.

"You can grab her some new clothes and just make sure Ginny and my mum don't find out what's happening in here." Fred's eyes never left Hermione while he talked and Harry nodded in agreement and left, locking the door behind him.

Again Fred muttered a spell under his breath, thread the needle, and began to sew Hermione's back back together. She cried as the needle pierced her skin and buried her face into Ron's shoulder. He just continued to run his fingers through her hair, watching Fred as worked. After an excruciating few minutes, it was over and Hermione sat slumped over on Ron's shoulder. Not long after, Harry returned with new clothes, just an old t-shirt of Ron's and some shorts and the group of boys left Hermione to change.

"You're sure you got it?" Ron asked softly before he closed the door. Hermione was still putting most of her weight on the wall, breathing heavily and looking down at the floor. She nodded slowly, her face still to the ground. Ron moved out of the doorway and crouched down in front of Hermione.

"Mione. Are you sure? I don't want you to rip your stitches." He spoke with concern, not sure he could take it if another thing happened to her. She turned her face towards him. Her eyes were still red and puffy and her hair was a mess, but still, she somehow looked beautiful.

"Ron, you're gonna have to try harder than that if you want to see me in my bra. Honestly." Hermione smirked a little and a bit of the light returned to her eyes. All at once, Ron's entire body relaxed and he realized that she was going to be okay. If she could still scold him at a time like this then she could get through anything. He smiled and left the small bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Ron walked back to his room where the rest of the boys were sitting, all looking anxiously at each other saying nothing. Ron felt as though his entire body was going to collapse, the adrenaline of the situation suddenly vanishing from his body leaving him feeling drained and shaky. He slumped onto the bed, scared his legs wouldn't be able to support him anymore.

"Is she okay?" Harry asked after what seemed like hours of silence.

"Yeah, she should be okay," Ron replied, his voice devoid of any emotion besides relief, still grappling with what had happened. The four boys sat there in silence, each alone with their thoughts until Harry stood,

"I can't believe her dad would do that to her. Why would anyone do that to her? I mean did you see her back? Did you see her scars? This has been going on for years, at least as long as we've known her… and we never knew? She never said anything?" Harry's chest was heaving and with each anger filled word, Ron's chest began to constrict. He put his head in his hands hoping to make the room stop spinning. He desperately wanted Harry to stop talking, but his words just kept coming. Soon they just faded into a ringing, and it became hard to breathe. Ron felt as though he was going to pass out and couldn't stop seeing Hermione's faced, warped by pain and grief and guilt.

"Everybody out." Fred's voice sliced through Harry's rage and Ron heard the shuffling of feet as Harry and George left the room.

"Ron." Fred's voice filled the room but Ron couldn't focus on anything except Hermione crying as George muffled her screams. He shuddered. He pressed the back of his hands into his eyes, trying desperately to get rid of whatever was happening to him. To his dismay, he felt tears start to well in his eyes as he pictured what she would have looked like as her father stood over her jamming his boot into her back. Quickly the silent tears turned into heaving sobs and before he even knew what was happening, his entire body was shaking, racked with emotion. He vaguely registered Fred shifting his weight so he was closer to Ron and before he knew what was happening, he was his arms around Fred. Fred was shocked at first, his arms staying limply by his sides, but he quickly returned the favor, holding his little brother as he stained his shirt sleeve with tears. He let himself settle into the newfound responsibility of truly accepting the role of being an older brother and found that not all responsibility was bad.

"Ron, she's going to be okay. I swear to you, I won't let anything happen to her again. Ever." Although the promise was illogical, something in Fred's voice told Ron that what he was saying was completely true. That as long as Fred was around, he would do everything in his power to keep not only Hermione safe but himself safe as well.

"I just keep thinking about the years she's spent there. She could have died. And she never said a word… why didn't she tell me?" Ron spoke between hysterical breaths, struggling to put air back into his lungs so his words came out jagged and quick. He looked up at his brother, completely filling the role of the little brother, looking to his siblings for all the answers.

"I don't know Ron. She could have been trying to protect you. I mean, look at what this did to you. Or maybe she was embarrassed. No one wants to admit that they're this overpowered, especially someone like Hermione. But I do know that she didn't keep it from you to hurt you." Ron poured over Fred's words, trying to find an explanation that seemed real enough to satisfy the nagging feeling in his stomach.

"But she told you. She told you and George." Fred sighed in response to Ron's accusation.

"She only told us because she had to. We found her crying out in the woods, she couldn't lie. We told her to tell you, Ron. But she didn't want to worry you. She said she already felt like a burden, being here and all, and she didn't want to make matters worse." Fred knew it would take some convincing to get Ron to believe anything other than an explanation filled with self-hate and anger, but Fred was praying he would leave Hermione out of this. He knew Ron always acted with pure intentions but his emotions tended to get the better of him.

"Ron, she did what she thought was best and that's it. You know how stubborn Hermione can be about things like this. She would have never asked for help unless she needed to." Fred stood up, making it clear that was the extent of any explanation Ron was going to get.

"I know. I know. I just… I just hated her seeing like that. Fred, I have never hated someone as much as I hate her father right now. Anyone who does that to their daughter deserves the same done to them." Rage flashed in Ron's eyes that surpassed the petty childish anger that had lived there before. This was a real vindictive rage. It left as quickly as it came, however.

"If… if something had happened to her… If she had died in that house or ours, I don't know what I would have done." Ron's eyes met Fred's and Fred wished he could take this away from him, but he couldn't. No one could. Sooner or later he would have to have been exposed to something like this, a war was coming after all.

"But she didn't. So it's no use talking about." Fred opened the door and with one last glance to Ron, left him alone in his room to figure out what to do next.


End file.
